I dropped my dirty rag back into the bucket filled with soapy water. These shutters were as clean they were going to get without a good scraping. And I was no scraper. I picked up the bucket by the handle and trudged back into the brothel, careful not to slosh water onto the floor, though I’m sure it could use a good scrubbing. I took the bucket to the back-store room and set it in the corner, still filled with water in case someone else needed it. Never know when a man would have one too many drinks and start blowing chunks everywhere.

I checked myself in the mirror before heading back into the main room. Dark brown hair that fell down just past the tops of my shoulders, a slightly dirty face covered with makeup, and two hickory brown eyes that’d seen way more than a girl my age should have. Entering the main room, I took a seat at the bar, watching the patrons—mostly men—drink and chat.

Out of every person here, not a single face stood out to me. I’d seen some of them a couple hundred times, and yet their presence moved me the same amount a toddler could move a brick wall. Milena Proper, the heartless whore. That's what some of the hundred-time patrons called me, but always with a drunken smile and a clumsy eyebrow twitch, because they thought their pet name was so seductive.

The other prostitutes told me I needed to make a new name for myself, that there was nothing beseeching about my current one. At least I had a nickname. In this business, being a no name whore was more detrimental. Nicknames served one purpose—they could be remembered even in blackout drunk states. If they remembered the name, they could ask for you, and there came your money.

I watched Shenna going around refilling the drinks. In my opinion, she had the best nickname. Drinks Girl. Or as the drunks said, Driiin-guurl. She was the main bartender, and obviously could make the best drinks. If I had more patience, I would learn her job, and get out the bedroom so much.

Chasey Babbitt, my least favorite whore—because she was a whore by character, not by occupation—and boss walked up to me, her lips pursed in their usual uptight manner. “You’re just sitting here?”

I nodded, her tone not even fazing me. “I just came in from cleaning all the shutters.”

Chasey gestured at the four men sitting at the tables. “Are these not potential clients?”

“It's three in the afternoon,” I said. “I’m not going to assume that every man who walks in here is looking for a good time.”

Chasey raised her eyebrow.

“Well not during the day at least,” I said. I turned in my seat so I wasn’t facing the room—or her—anymore. “This is a bar and brothel. Mainly a brothel, but the bar attracts just as many patrons. Some of these guys just want a drink.”

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“You haven't had a client in weeks, Milena.”

I tried not to smile. “Has it been that long?”

“It's probably because of your bitter attitude.”

I still didn't look at her. “Yeah, that's it.”

In my peripheral, I could see Chasey shaking her head. “You're impossible.”

“What can I say?” I said, shrugging.

Chasey walked away, but I knew that wouldn't be the last I’d be hearing from her today, maybe even within the hour.

I sat at the bar watching Shenna take inventory of the bottles. If she bent over any lower, her breasts were sure to fall out of her dress. But I knew she didn’t love to wear that dress; she just knew it attracted more men to the bar and kept them drinking longer. She was a good saleswoman, and that was all anyone could really ask from her.

My only friend Leesa Short walked and sat next to me at the counter.

“Where have you been?” I asked her.

“Cleaning up in the back,” she replied. Her eyes noticed Sheena’s teetering breasts, but she ignored it. “What was Chasey saying to you?”

“The usual,” I replied.

Leesa frowned in the way that she did where she was genuinely concerned, but she looked like she was enticingly pouting for a client. “You don’t have to pass up so many clients for me. I know Chasey is probably mad that you look like you’re not doing your share.”

For the past two months, I’d been brushing off clients and pushing them more in the direction of Leesa. She’d only been working here about five months, and even though she was pretty, she was shy so her approach to the clients wasn’t convincing enough yet. Of course, it looked like my number had clients had decreased, but I just wanted to get Leesa on her feet. She was new and needed the confidence, especially if she wanted to stay around here.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Chasey may be mad now, but she knows I’m one of the girls who make the most money. If she really wants that money so bad, why doesn’t she strip down and get on the floor?”

“Oh, I just vomited in my mouth thinking about that,” Leesa said, laughing. “She’s how old? Sixty?”

“Oh man, Leesa. Give her a break. She’s not that old,” I said. “Forties probably.”

“Whatever age, it's obviously too old to be getting anything good,” Leesa said. “That's why she’s so cranky.”

“That and the fact that she’s married to deadbeat trash.”

“I just wish she wouldn't bother you so much,” Leesa said.

“Nothing she could say to me would ever bother me,” I assured her. The amount of truth in that statement was more than Leesa could even imagine.

Before I came to work for Chasey and Farris, I worked at another brothel in Burila Mare, The Kitten Spot. A weak name in my opinion, but that didn’t stop the hordes of men from coming every night. That part was like any other brothel. The big difference was the owners. Another couple, Trevor and Josie Otarro, but they treated us like shit. In fact, they treated us worse than shit. They would have been happy if shit worked as their whores and not us. At the end of every night they yelled at us about how poorly we’d done, even when business was booming. They starved those who were ‘fat.’ I hated them, and I didn’t know how to keep my mouth shut, so I suffered through their ‘crafty’ punishments often. These included: washing every dish and cup with a toothbrush; standing out in the seating area just shy of stark naked; sitting in a room while another patron was being served with a bucket over your head so you could only listen, and more. When the brothel closed down, I smiled for a week.

Leesa knew bits and pieces about my old brothel, and frankly, I didn’t want her to know yet how bad other brothels could be. She was still young and had real potential for the game. I just knew that from my previous experience, there was nothing Chasey or Farris could do that outmatched that.